


Devil in a New Dress

by King0fTheFall



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Cunnilingus, F/M, Jealousy, Noice, Oral Sex, Party, Post-War, Romance, Smut, how does one tag things
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-28
Updated: 2020-05-28
Packaged: 2021-03-03 02:14:04
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,767
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24427081
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/King0fTheFall/pseuds/King0fTheFall
Summary: Hermione grudgingly wears a very revealing dress at Ginny's insistence but she never expected her night to turn out like this.
Relationships: Hermione Granger/Harry Potter
Comments: 14
Kudos: 149





	Devil in a New Dress

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter.
> 
> Note: The title is a song by Kanye West. First (second) attempt at smut; we don't speak of the first.
> 
> A HUGE thank you to UntoldHarmony, one of the greatest fanfiction authors ever, for going over this.

* * *

Hermione stood glaring at herself in the mirror, her expression scandalized and her lips pursed tightly. Ginny either needed her eyes checked or she was completely off her rocker. At this very moment, she was leaning towards the latter.

"Nope, no way. Not a chance in hell, Ginevra."

"Ooh the full name. What's wrong with it?" Ginny questioned innocently.

"You can't expect me to wear this!" Hermione angrily whispered. "It's far too small! I look like some kind of scarlet woman! I feel like if I breathe wrong I'm going to burst from the top. And if I sit down, I'll show off my bits to the world—"

"Hermione," Ginny interrupted but instantly cringed when the other witch glowered at her. Sometimes her likeness to their old Transfiguration professor was uncanny. The red-haired girl's face took on an apologetic guise and she walked over to Hermione's discarded clothes.

Ginny sighed and conceded. "Alright, alright. I thought you might enjoy a change of appearance for once. You're absolutely gorgeous! And you should show it off. But if you really don't like it…"

She masked a mischievous smirk when she saw an all too familiar expression cross her friend's features. Most people who've had the pleasure of meeting the brilliant Hermione Granger would know that she was currently lost in thought. This happened quite often. Her mind was something a common man could never hope to comprehend.

Hermione began to chew on her bottom lip and Ginny could positively squeal from excitement. Her glee was evident when she unconsciously began to bounce on the balls of her feet. ' _She's close,'_ Ginny thought, ' _one more push ought to do._ '

"I don't like it." Hermione told her resolutely.

Ginny let out a frustrated sigh and felt like pulling her hair out. Her friend was too stubborn for her own good. She sharply tugged on Hermione's hand and sat her down on the bed next to her. Neville was right, as much as she loathed to admit it. Hermione would never acquiesce so easily.

"Hermione, honey, are you happy?" Ginny asked, placing a hand on top of her friend's thigh. She decided to take a different approach and be upfront.

"What? Of course I am. I've finally got the career I wanted, I've got so many wonderful friends, and—"

"And how about love?" Ginny pressed, her gaze unrelenting.

Hermione opened her mouth to retort but found herself at a loss for words. There wasn't much she could say in retaliation. Her love life was… unsatisfactory, to put it kindly. In the six years that passed since the end of the war she had been courted twice, both of which had ended unceremoniously. Her rotten luck had left her feeling low-spirited whenever such topics were brought up.

"I'll admit, I have been feeling rather lonely," Hermione said. Her gaze lay transfixed to where her hands were at work tugging down the hem of the revealing red dress. "We'll find each other one day, though."

Ginny had to clutch the bedsheet tightly to resist the overwhelming urge to strangle the daft witch before her. Why could she not see what's been right in front of her?

" _You_ already found him, you idiot." Hermione looked thoroughly taken aback at her statement. Ginny huffed, she was going to kill somebody if this continued. "You've been by his side for over a decade, Hermione."

"Ginny, any mentally stable person would know that Ron and I would never work out. Even before… you know,"

"I'm starting to think the title 'Brightest Witch of Her Age' was misbranded," Ginny deadpanned. When Hermione continued to look confused, she practically screamed, "I'm talking about Harry, Hermione. Honestly!"

At the mention of their favorite wizard, Hermione let out a forlorn sigh. Her features became downtrodden as her thoughts once again shifted to scenarios of what it would be like if she were with Harry.

"It's a lost cause, Ginny. Harry would've already asked me by now if he felt the same way. He probably only sees me as a sister and nothing more."

Her words were filled with bitter acceptance and longing. Ginny understood Hermione's turmoil all too well. She had loved Harry herself after all. It was hard not to. He was the sweetest man, so very kind and caring. And he wasn't unpleasant to the eyes either.

"You know men are idiots," she told her dismissively. A playful smirk then tugged at Ginny's lips. "Oh and I'm sure your _activities_ in the Forest of Dean were completely how Harry would behave with his sister."

She laughed when Hermione's cheeks quickly tinged with pink as blood rushed to her face. The blossoming color was adorable in the way it contrasted with her light freckles.

"T-that's… that's a secret, Ginny! I told you that in confidence!" Hermione sputtered out indignantly. Her cheeks puffed out and she covered her face with her hands in a futile attempt to conceal her mortification.

Ginny cackled loudly, immensely enjoying her friend's vexation.

"Don't you worry, Hermione. Once Harry gets a peek at you in this dress, he'll be putty in your hands."

-xotwod-

Harry stood glaring at himself in the mirror and ran a hand through his messy hair in a fruitless attempt to tame his disheveled locks.

As much he didn't want to go, he couldn't do that to Ginny or Neville. This was their engagement party after all. All of his friends were growing up, he thought despondently. Luna had married a muggle bloke who shared her eccentricism in... well, in everything. He was kind of a strange fellow. George and Angelina had been dating for years now and he was expecting them to be married soon as well.

But a real shock came when Ron had announced that he and Draco had been secretly dating for the better part of two years. He remembered how everyone stood shell-shocked, staring at the two wizards; the silence of the room was only broken when Harry took the initiative and congratulated the two of them. And by the way things were going, he wouldn't be surprised if he had another engagement party to attend in the coming months.

And then there was Hermione…

It always came down to Hermione.

Not a day went by where he didn't find himself thinking about his bushy-haired best friend, much to the chagrin of all the women he'd been with. It was the primary reason none of his relationships had panned out well. They all had said that he always felt distant. Like he was never one hundred percent when he was with them.

Harry did not want to go to this party because of how his last relationship had ended. It had only been a little over a week after all. His constant quarrels with Elena had left him weary. He lay awake at night, reminded of their screams. They continued to echo through his mind and tear at any happy thought he might've had leaving him feeling lethargic.

Elena never mentioned her by name but Harry always knew whom she was referring to. But in their last fight, she had outright spat Hermione's name at him. He was getting worn out from that particular argument. Hermione was… special to him. There wasn't a distinct way he could describe his feelings for her.

Elena had been crying, he remembered. Then she accused him of being completely apathetic and uncaring to their relationship. Sure, he had not shed tears but that did not diminish the fact that he deeply cared for her.

_Did you ever love me?_

Her departing words had been engraved into his mind. Did he love her? Seeds of doubt began to sprout when he pondered it. He had repeated the three words to her when she first said them but now it all seemed convoluted.

Shaking his head, Harry made his way to the pantry with the intention of making himself a drink. He reached up to pull out a bottle of Beetle Berry Whiskey when his eyes went wide, catching a glimpse of his wrist watch.

The party had already started!

Forgoing the drink, Harry pulled out his wand and apparated to Longbottom Manor.

-xotwod-

Harry released a heavy sigh as he stood near the corner of the hall and nursed a glass of wine. This was no different from he'd be doing at home, he thought with an internal groan. Harry sipped his beverage with pursed lips and tracked his eyes across the room.

Ginny and Neville had a massive turnout for their engagement party. A genuine smile formed on his features when he spotted the two of them in each other's arms greeting and thanking those congratulating them.

His gaze left them and continued to flit around the room when a flash of red caught his eye. It was a woman, he realized when he got a better look at her. Although 'goddess' might be a more appropriate classification.

Harry felt his mouth go dry as he watched her dance. He was entranced by the way her loose curls bounced with each elegant movement. The vibrant layers of her silky red dress hung off her shoulders and kissed her body in a way that was making it hard for Harry to stay standing upright. The dress was skin tight and open back, hardly leaving much to the imagination. Her curly tresses of auburn looked to be braided and positioned over her right shoulder giving Harry a perfect view of the smooth skin of her unblemished back.

She was ethereal.

The bell-end dancing with her should consider himself lucky, Harry thought bitterly. He looked to be enjoying himself all too well if the lecherous grin on his face was anything to go off of.

Harry continued to watch as they moved in tandem, swaying to the music, until the wizard whisked her out of his arms and they twirled as if they were professionals. Harry scoffed at the scene and was about to turn away when recognition suddenly flared.

He blinked once. Then twice. Three times for good measure.

Harry walked closer to the dance floor, rudely ignoring those who nodded at him, to get a better look at the dancing witch. He took in her appearance from head to toe. Her normally wild, bushy brown hair had been tamed, no doubt with the work of some kind of potion, and she was uncharacteristically peacocking her figure. The silver heels she wore added three inches to her height and perfectly complimented her mile long legs.

' _Sweet Merlin,'_ Harry thought, _'it's Hermione!'_

This was a Hermione that he'd never seen before. If she looked beautiful during the Yule Ball, then she was downright heavenly in this moment.

Harry continued to watch, open-mouthed, as she danced with that right awful, no good tosser. He pulled her back into his arms with much more force than necessary causing Hermione to be pressed up flush against his chest.

Harry saw them smile at each other and grimaced. He bit back the growl that threatened to escape his lips and angrily downed the rest of his wine, waving over a waiter for a second glass. The band had begun to play a slower song and of course the wizard she was dancing with capitalized on it.

There was a roar of blood in his ears making all the commotion in the room seem as though it were under a widespread _Muffliato_ charm. He could hear the loud _thump, thump_ of his heart and swallowed the rapidly forming lump in his throat. Harry's normally shining emerald eyes were now darkened, nearly black, exuding unbridled hatred towards the man with _his_ Hermione.

His hands were all over her, touching and lingering in certain places longer than others.

And she seemed to be enjoying it. Seeing Hermione's laughter and bright eyes directed towards him was like a slap in the face. His irrational anger began to fade and was replaced by the ugly sting of jealousy. Harry let out a defeated sigh and tore his eyes away from them.

"I have to get out of here," Harry murmured to himself, taking deep breaths as he maneuvered through the crowd.

If he stared at them any longer, he might do something stupid and unreasonable. He was very tempted to storm over and separate them by force. Though, Hermione might not appreciate that very much.

Who was he to get in the way of her happiness?

-xotwod-

While everyone was having fun and enjoying the party, Harry found himself on a terrace overlooking the backyard of Neville's manor. Had he been in a right state of mind, Harry would have appreciated the beautifully kept property fit with the lining of red oak and dogwood trees and a lake that reflected the stars above.

But in this moment, Harry stood leaning against the marble railing with his head bent down. His knuckles were white from clutching the empty wine glass. Every possible emotion one could have were warring inside him. Anger, pain, jealousy, sorrow, regret—he couldn't discern their differences anymore. They all seemed to intertwine and fester in his chest before exploding.

Then, in a flash of rage, Harry hurled the wine glass out to the garden below, taking satisfaction in the way it shattered against the pavement.

"What did that poor glass ever do to you?"

Harry swiveled around and for a split second, his torment was suspended, substituted by the surprise he felt when he took in the owner of the voice.

"Hermione…" Harry whispered, his eyes wide and filled with shock when he took in her sudden appearance.

"What's got you so riled up, Harry?" She asked, moving to stand beside him.

"Nothing," he mumbled, unconvincingly. "You look really great tonight."

"Flattery won't get you anywhere," she said smiling, a light pink dusting her cheeks, and looked at him with prying eyes. "Now tell me what's wrong."

"Honestly, Hermione, I'm fine. Shouldn't you be with your date?" There was an edge of bitterness to his tone that did not go unnoticed.

"Why do you sound so angry?" Hermione shot back hotly.

"I'm not angry," he said, scowling. At her crossed arms and raised eyebrow, Harry sighed. "It's just… his hands were all over you and your dress shows a lot of skin so…"

Harry cringed, knowing he was in it for it now. He immediately regretted speaking; no woman ever wants to hear that.

"Should I get your approval the next time I decide to wear something?" She questioned sarcastically, clearly miffed now. She felt her heart drop to her stomach and immediately drew her arms closer to her body. "Why do you care anyway?"

Harry bit his lip and looked away. He gazed out at the distance and watched how a few deer trotted near the lining of the trees. He could feel her eyes boring a hole into the side of his face but couldn't bear to look at her right now.

"Don't tell me... were you… _jealous_ , Harry?" She asked, disbelievingly.

Harry's silence and pained expression was all the confirmation she needed.

"What do you have to be jealous for? You made it clear you didn't care for me like that."

Harry took in a sharp breath and felt like he'd been struck by lightning. His posture became rigid and a sudden coldness settled over him. He turned abruptly and looked at her, horrified at the assumption.

"W- _what_? How could you say that?" His voice was shaky and meek.

"Honestly, Harry! We slept together all those years ago but you've never mentioned it again. I thought we might try our hand at a relationship after the war." Her anger had faded, now replaced with melancholy. "I don't understand…Was I just... a stress reliever for you?"

Her voice cracked on the last word. There were tears welled in her eyes and it pained him to think that he was the one who put them there. This conversation was a long time coming. They've spent years skirting around it and usually dismissed it as a flare of passion, but neither would have imagined it happening in a situation like this.

Harry remained silent, physically unable to spit out all the raging words in his mind to refute her claims. Hermione must've taken his silence as a nod in the positive because she rushed to move past him before her tears came out in full force.

The next thing she knew, she was pressed up against the balustrade of the terrace with Harry's tongue caressing her own. Harry was kissing her. _Harry_ was kissing her. It wasn't a friendly cheek peck either, or an affectionate forehead kiss, but a real, bona fide kiss.

She felt her heart swell with emotion. There was a warmth pooling in her stomach and her brain ceased producing any coherent thoughts as she lost herself in pleasure. She relaxed and wrapped her arms around his neck, letting them rest around his shoulders. Fleeting memories of their night in the forest passed through her mind. Their inexperienced, tentative touches had become a thing of the past and they now explored each other with confidence.

Harry's tongue darted around her mouth, exploring every corner. His hands had buried themselves into her hair pulling her impossibly close. She could feel her lips beginning to chafe but paid it no mind. Harry pulled back but not without pressing a few more quick kisses to her lips and cheeks.

"The way you look should be a sin," Harry breathed before moving to her jaw and trailing kisses down her neck.

Hermione wanted to respond in kind but Harry's lips had found their way to a certain area just below her ear making her gasp and moan loudly into his shoulder.

Poised, Hermione moved her hands to Harry's waist and pulled him even closer. She could feel his rapidly growing arousal pressing against her but lost focus when Harry returned his attention to her lips.

She relished in the heat of his skin against hers and nearly whimpered when he pulled away. Harry's heavy breathing matched her own; she took in his swollen red lips and heaving chest and smirked at him, receiving the same look in return.

Harry's arms come to rest on her hips briefly before sliding down to her ass and giving a playful squeeze. Hermione jumped slightly in surprise giving Harry the perfect opportunity to reach down to the back of her thighs and pick her up. She let out a slight gasp but fell in rhythm and wrapped her legs around his waist.

Their intense, lust filled eyes met one another's and there was an unspoken message exchanged.

Hermione nibbled lightly on Harry's earlobe while he carried them towards the bedroom connected to the terrace. He idly wondered how Hermione found him so quickly—this bedroom was pretty far from the main hall, but her lips attaching themselves to his neck made it difficult to ponder it further.

Standing at the foot of the bed, still in Harry's arms, Hermione opened her mouth to say something, anything, but Harry clearly didn't want to talk anymore. There was an animalistic glint in his eyes that made her lose all sense of speech.

A rush of cold air hit her when Harry savagely tore off the garment of her dress and took a stiff nipple into his mouth. She couldn't stop the scream of pleasure that escaped her lips as she threw her head back, clutching desperately at his black locks.

She wasn't a stranger to physical love or desire. But until this very moment, she'd never known passion or lust for what it really was.

It was lust that roared in her veins. It was the only way to explain her sudden overwhelming urge to feel Harry's skin against hers, to feel his breath mix with hers, feel his hands touching her all over… to feel his love. She fisted her hands into his dress shirt and tugged outwards, wrenching the buttons from its seams.

Harry was doing unimaginable things with his tongue on her breasts, traveling from one hard nipple to the other, sucking, licking, and leaving tender bites. Hermione's back arched, trying to get closer to the source of her intense pleasure. Harry's hand came up to cup one of her breasts and play with her nipple while his mouth worked on the other. The waves of sensation and ecstasy rolled off her in waves. Breast stimulation never felt this pleasurable before and she couldn't help but wonder if it was because _Harry_ was the one doing it.

Hermione's hands were trembling as she reached down to caress his throbbing member over the fabric of his pants. She felt him go rigid against her and wanted to continue teasing but yearned for more. Her hand dove into his waistband, probing around until she grasped his length. Harry's mouth left her breast and he released a heavy sigh in complete rapture.

With one hand lightly pulling and stroking him, she used the other to undo his trousers and pull them down. Harry immediately kicked them off and she began to deftly move her fingers, touching, twisting, and feeling every inch of him.

She could feel Harry's breathing get more and more ragged; his kisses against her neck had become sloppier and she could feel him shudder every few seconds. The strain of Harry's muscles when he bucked into her hand brought a coy smile to her face.

Wanting more, Hermione dropped to her knees and swiftly took him in her mouth. Harry let out a throaty moan and began to tremble giving her immense satisfaction at seeing him come undone because of her.

With one hand on the base, she kissed the tip of his pulsating organ and engulfed him with her mouth. Her tongue stroked his shaft with sensual, languid movements before paying special attention to the underside of his tip.

At her sudden change in technique, Harry groaned and began thrusting in time with her strokes. Hermione could taste the start of his release only a short moment until he pulled away from her entirely. The sound of protest that escaped her lips wasn't allowed to be heard in full—she found herself flat on her back, pinned under him as he brought their lips together.

Her eyes fluttered close when Harry pressed a kiss to her forehead, a gesture she's never received from another lover. Although 'lover' doesn't do Harry justice, she thought. A soft sigh escaped her lips when she felt his lips press against her eyelids, her nose, the corner of her mouth, and on her chin before tracing the expanse of her body.

The growing ache between her legs turned into a widespread, raging fire that immersed her entire being from his touch. Harry brought her arm to his mouth and tenderly kissed the scar carved into her arm by Bellatrix. He paid special attention to her breasts, kneading and suckling them, before traveling down to her navel. Her need multiplied tenfold when Harry lickd and kissed her inner thigh.

"I haven't even touched you yet, but you're already soaked through your knickers," Harry chuckled against the skin of her creamy thigh. Hermione dug her hands into his hair and tried to pull his mouth to her core, but he remained just a few inches from her.

"Harry," Hermione pants, desperate. " _please_ …"

"Please what?" He breathed huskily, looking directly into her eyes now and knew she was closing to losing it.

"Touch… me…"

There was an ephemeral moment where fear coursed through her—afraid he'd make her beg for it but even his composure must be dwindling. Harry made quick work of the black lace and tugged them down with intention. Swiftly kissing back up her inner thigh, he finally gave her what she was so desperate for.

The tip of his tongue grazed her lower lips, nearly sending her into a spiral. Harry was far more patient than people gave him credit for. He took his time pressing feather light kisses against her before taking long, leisure licks with the flat of his tongue, unwilling to leave any part of her uncharted.

Harry became more brazen when he threw her legs over his shoulders and attached his mouth to her clit in one swift movement. Hermione arched her back at his touch, lifting her hips and grinding herself onto his face. Her loud gasps and moans have a sweeping effect on him; his green eyes brightened in delight and he plunged two fingers inside her. Harry attacked her core with new found zeal and felt her throbbing around him—so very close to the edge, just needing that one last push.

"Oh, Harry!" She cried out as her body begged for release. She was writhing under him and just when she was about to cum, he removed his fingers and moved back up to kiss her.

"Harry, what the fuck—"

A loud moan pierced the air when Harry pushed inside her with one smooth movement, burying himself to the hilt. Hermione was caught by surprise from the sudden fullness and playfully sent him a glare. Harry grinned, laced their fingers together, leaning forward to pin them above her head, and brought his lips back on top of hers.

Her eyes fluttered close when he placed a kiss so filled with passion, leaving her breathless, mindless, until she's free of all her inhibitions. She kept her eyes shut, taking a moment to recover from the earth-shattering kiss, but her face quickly contorted to one of euphoria when Harry began to thrust.

Hermione melted into the mattress and lazily kissed back, savoring how he felt inside of her. He moves his hips with a controlled rhythm, wanting this moment to last for as long as possible, but his thrusts were deep and rough; each one sending tremors down her body as she raked her nails down the flesh of Harry's back.

Harry adjusted his grip and buried one hand into her curls while sloppily kissing her neck causing Hermione to buck against him and curve her body to his. Her taut nipples brushed against his hard chest making her mewl out in pleasure.

Bringing his hands to her hips and holding them steady, Harry aggressively pounded into her with renewed vigor. Hermione had to bite down on his shoulder to stifle the whimpers coming from her lips but a particularly deep thrust struck a certain spot and left her completely unhinged.

" _Fuck_ , oh my god—Harry, I'm about to—"

"Cum for me, Hermione," he growled.

His words, the demand in them, the way her name sounds escaping his lips, and the spontaneity of everything that just happened pushed her over the edge. Her whole body tensed before coming undone. Her back arched into him—and then she was in bliss.

Hermione cried out his name as her vision became hazy and spots began to dance along the edges. The muscles of her nether regions contracted painfully around his pulsing length making his movements become erratic and relentless. She grinded against him, reciprocating his enthusiasm and taking immense gratification at the deep, guttural moan that he released as he fell from his own high.

Harry tenderly pulled out and collapsed beside her, throwing an arm around her waist and pulling her close. Hermione curled up beside him and rested her head on his chest, smiling as he idly traced random shapes on her back.

Their heavy breathing gradually became shallow sighs as they basked in the afterglow. She's softly rubbing a finger through his chest hair when she felt the need to say something.

"Harry," she hummed.

"Yeah?"

"That was…"

"Fucking phenomenal."

She gave a breathy chuckle and trailed her hand down, lifting her head to look Harry in the eye. There's a mischievous grin playing on her lips when she came into contact with what she's looking for. She marveled at how rapidly he was growing from just a simple touch.

"You're not done yet, are you?" She asked, coyly.

Her response was a fierce kiss.

Sometime during that night she heard Harry murmur 'I love you' against her skin. And it helped her realize many important things. They had been through hell and back together; but through everything, they had stuck by each other's side. So what was a few more years? They had each other now.

She was also very grateful for that scarlet dress that lay crumpled at the foot of the bed.

_Thank you, Ginny._

_Fin_


End file.
